Qin Sizheng hesitated, then offered a hand to support Lu Xianqing back to the makeup room. He Xiang froze briefly at the sight of their joined hands.
“You two?”
Qin Sizheng felt slightly unfamiliar with her, while Lu Xianqing said, “Sister He Xiang, you didn’t know either?”
Qin Sizheng quickly greeted her: “Sister He Xiang.”
He Xiang nodded, internally puzzled. Had they reconciled? But Qin Sizheng’s demeanor suggested otherwise. She turned to An Ning, who shook her head, equally unsure.
Lu Xianqing told He Xiang, “Sizheng’s acting teacher is absent today, so I’m substituting. We’ll postpone the afternoon plans.”
He Xiang understood. “Okay.”
Qin Sizheng hurriedly added, “If you have other matters, it’s fine. I can attend next class; focus on what’s important.”
“No, you are the most important,” Lu Xianqing said casually. Qin Sizheng felt his chest heat up and scratched his nose in embarrassment.
After removing their makeup and returning home, Qin Sizheng noticed how selective Lu Xianqing was about food. Coupled with his celebrity status, any restaurant visit caused a commotion, so he rarely went out.
It was Qin Sizheng’s first visit. Nervous, he sat stiffly on the sofa, barely daring to lower himself, eyes following Lu Xianqing’s every move.
“Water?” Lu Xianqing offered a cup.
Qin Sizheng accepted it reverently, slowly taking a sip to wet his throat. Seeing Lu Xianqing appear momentarily distracted, he reminded him, “Fourth Brother, when do we start?”
“Impatient?” Lu Xianqing asked, glancing back.
“No.”
Qin Sizheng was simply tense, unsure where to place his eyes or hands, his heart practically leaping from his chest under that intense gaze.
“Since our little student is so impatient, let’s start now.” Lu Xianqing sat down in front of him, hands crossed neatly on his knees, voice gentle as he asked, “Let’s not tackle anything too dramatic yet. Let’s begin with eye expressions—okay?”
“Mm.”
“Eye work is the foundation of acting, and also the hardest. Whether a scene succeeds depends on emotion, and good acting is judged less by facial expressions and more by the eyes—they’re where the feeling truly lives.”
“When you were getting your makeup done today, the photographer kept asking for your eyes. You can’t quite master that yet, so I often have to help you control it using external emotion.”
“Often?” Qin Sizheng asked.
Lu Xianqing paused slightly. “I mean, you might need that often in the future. Let’s start—try giving me a melancholic, sorrowful gaze.”
Qin Sizheng thought carefully about what melancholic and sorrowful meant, then slowly lifted his eyes to meet Lu Xianqing’s. Lu Xianqing let out a small laugh. “I asked for melancholic and sorrowful, not resentful. Why are you glaring at me?”
Qin Sizheng’s face flushed crimson. “Sorry, I couldn’t get the emotion right.”
“It’s fine, take your time. If you can’t immediately enter the scene, you can recall something sad from your past—place yourself back in that emotion.”
Following Lu Xianqing’s gentle guidance, Qin Sizheng closed his eyes and thought carefully. When he opened them again, his expression was still far from what was needed. Even he knew it wasn’t right.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Lu Xianqing patted his hand. “It’s fine, no need to apologize. Want me to demonstrate?”
“Yes!”
Lu Xianqing slightly closed his eyes. Qin Sizheng watched his long, dark lashes descend, his high nose bridge, slightly pursed lips, and the faint crease in his eyelids—and swallowed nervously.
Suddenly, Lu Xianqing opened his eyes, and the sorrow and melancholy in his gaze seemed to spill out. Qin Sizheng felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching for a moment before he recovered.
“The eyes are the most direct way to convey emotion. Now let’s try arrogance and indifference.” Lu Xianqing’s eyes shifted subtly, radiating natural pride and disdain without even lifting his chin.
“Joy.”
“Anger.”
“Sorrow.”
“Pleasure.”
Qin Sizheng marveled at his seamless transformation and thought of how the outside world praised him as a naturally gifted actor. He couldn’t help asking, “Fourth Brother, which is more important—talent or training?”
Lu Xianqing’s expression darkened slightly. “Some people become famous with their first role, without ever having studied acting. Do you think they have real skill?”
Qin Sizheng hesitated. “I guess not?”
Lu Xianqing smiled. “Some people can’t act, but the audience thinks it’s great. Then their second role flops. Do you know why?”
Qin Sizheng thought. “Emotion?”
Lu Xianqing nodded with satisfaction. “The first role often succeeds because the actor naturally fits the character—it’s called playing oneself. But when you deliberately pursue acting, the performance exceeds your nature, which exposes flaws.”
Qin Sizheng nodded. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Curiosity bubbled up. Someone of Lu Xianqing’s status must have ordinary worries too, right? His films always succeeded; no one ever questioned his skill.
“Nothing,” Qin Sizheng muttered, feeling heat rise in his ears, secretly berating himself for being so nosy.
Lu Xianqing’s fingers moved to Qin Sizheng’s lips, leaning in close, his gaze soft and liquid, like spring water held in a glass.
In that instant, Qin Sizheng felt his lips go numb, nose brushing the faint chill of Lu Xianqing’s scent—yet somehow it felt scorching, burning at his throat.
The man drew closer, breath inches away. Qin Sizheng’s hands clenched in nervous tension, unable to look away, as if held by an invisible force compelling him to meet the gaze.
He swallowed and closed his eyes lightly. Then a teasing voice whispered, “Got it?”
Qin Sizheng froze, eyes snapping open. Seeing the intent in Lu Xianqing’s gaze, he realized with embarrassment that he had been bewitched, thinking Lu Xianqing was going to kiss him.
So humiliating.
Shy, he buried his face, refusing to look up. Lu Xianqing had just been staring at him to teach him acting, unable to resist teasing him. “Still doubting me?”
Qin Sizheng shook his head from his hiding spot.
Lu Xianqing’s heart ached with a mixture of sweetness and sorrow. Sweet because even without memories, the little one was still obedient when teased. Sour because he might forget today’s events tomorrow.
“Class time—pay attention, lift your head.”
Qin Sizheng slowly raised his head, cheeks impossibly red. Lu Xianqing regretted not suggesting they practice a kissing scene—then he could have taken the chance for a real kiss.
“Now, let’s practice the eye work I just showed you.” Lu Xianqing produced a small wooden stick from somewhere, tapping it lightly in his palm as a playful warning: fail, and get a tap.
Qin Sizheng immediately straightened, took a deep breath, and followed his instructions, mimicking the demonstration while glancing occasionally at the stick.
“Barely passing. Last one.”
Nervous, Qin Sizheng shifted his position, stiffly met Lu Xianqing’s eyes, and slowly leaned in, moving his eyelids deliberately. He suddenly noticed Lu Xianqing swallowing, too.
On impulse, he poked Lu Xianqing’s Adam’s apple with his finger, then froze and pulled back—but too late. Lu Xianqing had already grabbed his hand, pulling it back.
“Did you touch me?”
Embarrassed, Qin Sizheng tried to pull free.
Lu Xianqing stared at him. “I’m asking—you touched me?”
Qin Sizheng struggled to stay composed. “You didn’t say not to. I saw you swallowing, and I—couldn’t resist.”
Lu Xianqing didn’t know which of Qin Sizheng’s words had softened his heart, but he rubbed the little one’s wrist bone and echoed the phrase with a sigh, “Mm, you’re really good.”
“Dinner’s ready, teachers.” An Ning called from the kitchen doorway.
Qin Sizheng didn’t want to intrude and rose to leave, but Lu Xianqing had already reached the dining room. “We’re going to start filming the variety show tomorrow. Don’t leave—stay here tonight, and we’ll go together in the morning.”
Qin Sizheng hesitated slightly. Lu Xianqing turned back and asked, “Or do you think my place is too simple? That it’s uncomfortable to stay here? Eat first, then I’ll have An Ning take you home. I can’t let people say I brought someone over but didn’t even feed them.”
“It’s not that.”
Lu Xianqing prompted, “Not what?”
“I just feel like I’m disturbing you too much,” Qin Sizheng admitted.
“If I say it’s no disturbance, would you stay then?”
Qin Sizheng felt the logic was a little off but didn’t want to refuse and seem picky. He nodded. “Then I’ll trouble you. I’ll go with your car to the shoot tomorrow.”
Lu Xianqing waved him over. “Come.”
Qin Sizheng stepped forward but suddenly stumbled, instinctively grabbing the table to steady himself. His ankle tingled oddly, almost transparent, and he blinked hard to clear it.
“Still not coming?”
“I’m coming,” Qin Sizheng said, raising his head.
After dinner, An Ning had already prepared the guest room.
Not wanting to disturb them, Qin Sizheng found an excuse to go upstairs and wash up for bed. Lu Xianqing stayed downstairs drinking, occasionally glancing at the quiet floor above.
That time he had tricked the little one to come back, lying drunk on that bed, letting his gaze trace over him all night. This time, Qin Sizheng slept upstairs, and Lu Xianqing, restraining himself, hadn’t even left a key behind—hoping, perhaps, it could make up a little for the hurt he had caused before.
“Fourth Brother, drink less. Your hand’s still injured,” An Ning whispered, changing his bandage.
Lu Xianqing murmured a quiet “Mm,” then poured himself another glass. An Ning snatched the bottle and cup away fiercely, determined to drink it herself so he had none left.
Lu Xianqing laughed, “Drink, then.”
An Ning let out a resigned sigh. “Burns the throat.”
He grabbed it back and finished it in one gulp. “Put it away. I won’t drink anymore. The little one doesn’t like it.”
An Ning rolled her eyes at the bottle. “Then you better listen to him.”
Lu Xianqing turned back. “Or else?”
An Ning stomped dramatically, scissors in hand, shouting, “Yan Yan, we won’t deal with him anymore! Let him live as a lonely old man!”
Lu Xianqing: “Which Yan Yan are you talking about?”
An Ning hummed, back turned. “Of course my Yan Yan. You’re not going to forbid me from calling him that too, are you? Dictator!”
Lu Xianqing winced. “From today, this cat gets a new name.”
“What?”
“‘Xiaoting.’”
“That’s a person’s name?”
“Is it a person?”
An Ning glanced down. Well, no—it wasn’t. But Lu Xianqing…
Still kind of dog-like.
Renaming on a whim—did he even ask permission?
She grumbled silently but couldn’t help smiling at how alive he seemed now. The half-dead state from before had been too unbearable.
Passing the guest room, Lu Xianqing paused, took the memo from his pocket, and said through the door, “Good night… see you tomorrow.”
Thankfully, he still had a lifetime to try to make up for it.
Lu Xianqing’s sleep was restless in the latter half of the night. He had a heavy dream: Qin Sizheng smiling and waving goodbye, lips moving but sound gone. His senses were sealed, hands and feet bound.
He could only watch as Qin Sizheng’s form grew fainter, finally becoming transparent, vanishing from his sight. No matter how he called, he couldn’t keep him there.
His heart felt as if a searing spike had been driven in, pain unbearable. Layer upon layer of agony crushed him; even his bones seemed to be pulverized repeatedly.
Desperately, Lu Xianqing tried to reach for Qin Sizheng but was blocked by an invisible barrier. He looked down to see his hands clamped in rusted handcuffs, layered with dried blood.
“Yan Yan!”
“Yan Yan!”
He bolted upright, dazed, then gradually regained his senses, wiping sweat from his forehead.
It had just been a dream.
A soft knock: “Fourth Brother, you awake?” An Ning called.
He responded and glanced at the clock—already past nine. He had never slept this late. The chaotic dream left a hollow in his chest, the images flooding back.
An Ning jumped at the suddenly opened door. “Where are you going?”
Lu Xianqing pushed open the guest room door. The bed was clean, untouched. Anxiety drove him downstairs; the house was silent.
An Ning, shocked by his frantic expression, called, “Fourth Brother?”
“Where is he?”
“What do you mean, ‘he’?” An Ning followed him room to room, even checking the storage shed. Each empty room made his expression darker.
“Fourth Brother, what exactly are you looking for?” she asked.
Lu Xianqing closed the last door, grabbed her shoulders. “Where’s Qin Sizheng?”
An Ning froze, stunned by his intensity.
“Speak!”
Her shoulders nearly crushed under his grip. “Q-Qin Sizheng? I don’t know him! Did he come by last night?”
Lu Xianqing released her immediately; the cold, fierce look vanished, replaced by a smile. “Were you in cahoots with him to scare me? Felt sorry for me because I bullied him yesterday? Go get him to eat—if we mess around more, we’ll be late for filming.”
An Ning looked even more bewildered. “I really don’t know anyone named Qin Sizheng, Fourth Brother! Don’t scare me like this.”
Lu Xianqing walked as he spoke, “So busy chasing stars that you forgot who gives you your paycheck? Never again—next time your year-end bonus gets docked completely. I’m going to wash up; quickly get him out here.”
An Ning felt on the verge of tears just as He Xing arrived to pick someone up. She ran over like a rescued soul. “Sister He Xing, Fourth Brother—”
“What’s going on? Our living ancestor, calm down a bit! Waking up this early and already scolding people?” He Xing patted An Ning’s shoulder soothingly. “Okay, don’t cry. Tell me what happened.”
Sniffling, An Ning explained, “Fourth Brother came looking for Qin Sizheng right after arriving, saying I was hiding him in collusion with him. I really don’t know who Qin Sizheng is. Do you?”
He Xing frowned. “Qin Sizheng? Was someone meeting him about a new project yesterday?”